Garfield's Not Dead
by UglyTurnip
Summary: When evil atheist professor Dichard Rawkins forces his class to renounce Garfield's divinity, it is up to devout follower Christopher Walken to prove his faith true.


Christopher Walken sat in his chair as he waited for his physics professor to walk in. It was his first day of college course, and he was very excited. By the glory of his holy deity, Garfield the lasagna cat, he had passed high school with exceptional grades, and had qualified for a scholarship to a prestigious university.

"Good afternoon, class," Professor Dichard Rawkins greeted amicably as he entered the room. "Welcome to College Physics 101. I would like to start by saying that if any of you are believers in Garfield, you should leave my class at once. Garfield is not real, and any high IQ intellectual must accept this fact. Why, I'd go as far as to assert that all Garfield believers are objectively big dumb dumbs. So, your assignment today is to tell me that Garfield is dead."

"What does this have to do with physics?" inquired a random student. He was a skeleton with a goofy smile and a blue hoodie, but he was not the star of this particular story.

"Nothing at all," Rawkins clarified. "I'm just an antitheistic prick due to a traumatic backstory. Now, tell me that Garfield is dead or face immediate failure!"

"Garfield is dead," said the whole class except for Christopher Walken. Walken was a devout believer in Garfield, and he would not stand for the slander of his beloved god. With an outraged huff of air, Walken rose from his seat.

"Garfield's not dead!" he declared righteously.

"Yes he is," Rawkins replied.

"No he is not."

"Yes he is."

"No he is not."

"Yes he is."

"No he is not!"

"I don't think we're getting anywhere with this."

"No we are not!"

"Anyway, if you are so certain that your god exists, why not prove it to the rest of the class?"

Several sets of eyes fixated their gaze onto Christopher Walken. He gulped, for he did not find Rawkins's arrogant smirk very becoming. At last, however, he rose to the challenge. Silently, he strutted to the front of the room, meeting his classmates' stares with his own. They waited, and waited, and waited some more, yet Walken said nothing.

Though Walken was a proud and faithful adherent of the religion of the lasagna cat, he was not well-versed in either holy scripture or theological argument. His mind drew a blank, and he found himself whispering a prayer.

"Garfield, where is my will to debate?"

Rawkins only laughed. "Ha! All you can do is mumble a weak prayer? Do you really think that could convince anyone of Garfield's existence. Now is the time to make a choice: convert to atheism, or be expelled from my classroom forever!"

Walken sternly eyed his professor, then repeated his prayer.

"Garfield, where is my knowledge on owning atheists?"

"I ATE THOSE FOOD!"

It was a voice like thunder on a quiet prairie. A bright light enveloped the room, and there stood Garfield. His chiseled, rock-hard abs made him the envy of every lad in the room, but he had something that nobody else in the world could claim to possess: godhood.

Rawkins's mouth fell, then remained agape in pure shock. "I don't believe it. . . You exist."

"That is correct, poor naive Dichard. I have heard of your blasphemous outcries designed to turn my flock against me. Your sins shall not go unpunished."

Then, with the speed of an Olympic sprinter riding on a chariot pulled by cheetahs, Garfield dashed toward Rawkins. The professor tried to jump out of the way, but Garfield wrapped a muscular arm around his neck. Garfield's grip tightened, and he watched with a smile as Rawkins gagged for air. The way his life slowly left his eyes only seemed to fill Garfield with even more joy.

Garfield tossed the corpse aside and turned to the students in the crowd. "All of you have denied me, so I shall kick everyone here off of the primordial table."

Many students tried to scramble out of the classroom, but they were foolish to believe that they could escape the wrath of a god. Garfield shot microwave-temperature lasers from his eyes, dissolving them into golden brown globs of flesh one-by-one. Once it was just him and Walken, he picked them up and began to eat.

"I gotta have me a good meal," Garfield said to himself.

"Thank you, Garfield!" Christopher Walken exclaimed with unparalleled gratitude. "You have proved your mightiness once more!"

"Fool!" Garfield scolded. "I have not come to this realm for something as petty as a college debate. I have come because it is time to instigate Armageddon!"

Suddenly, the walls in the room began to melt into pure lasagna. Walken glanced down to find his own body doing the same. However, he only smiled.

"So the prophecy is true, after all," Walken remarked wistfully. "We are all to become one: a cosmic lasagna spanning gigaparsecs across the universe. All for you to eat."

"Right you are, Christopher," Garfield nodded. Then, he took a big bite out of Walken's face. "Mmm, that's a mighty good lasagna."


End file.
